Nikolai
As soon as I noticed her falling, I went to her. Madeline crumpled, pale and fragile, just as I swallowed her in my arms. She was dead weight, but I lifted her easily, carrying her as I might a bride in my arms. A fissure of panic sliced through my already pounding heart, calmed only by the realization that, though she was incredibly pale and looked so breakable in my arms, she was most definitely breathing.
She had only fainted.
I carried her to the little section of her studio apartment that was cordoned off. The section clearly acted as her bedroom with a curtain sectioning it away privately from the rest of the place. As a result, it was tiny and contained essentially only a bed and a bedside table with a tiny little light sitting on the top. There was a clock set there, too; otherwise, there was only a door I noticed as her closet and nothing else. Not that there was room for anything else. The bed took up so much space that I could barely fit around the edges of it. It reminded me again how much smaller she was than me.
Carefully, I laid her out on the bed, pulling back the covers slightly so I could tuck them around her fragile frame.
When I straightened, I took a long moment to just stare down at her.
That book…expecting mothers? Why would Madeline have something like that? But even as I thought about that, I knew the answer. We’d had a passionate night together a couple of months ago. A passionate night in which I’d claimed her as mine twice and twice released myself into her waiting, willing body. At the time, I hadn’t thought a single thing of it. Why would I? But I should have. After she told me that I’d been her first, her only, well, I should have considered that, perhaps, she wasn’t on any type of birth control. What would be the need if she’d never lain with a man before?
Part of me swelled with pride. I’d impregnated her. Was there any clearer claim than that? She was mine. Period.
Unfortunately, things weren’t one hundred percent that simple. I acknowledged that, perhaps, this was all a misunderstanding. She was in college; that book could have been for a class or a friend or maybe just for her own curiosity. But if she were pregnant, then there would be complications. I was a hit man for the Russian mob; her being pregnant didn’t change that and I wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. I was good at my job, even enjoyed it on occasion, and it paid better than any other job I might find out there. And I had been doing this for so long now that I didn’t even have a résumé. My last job had been tossing pizzas in a restaurant down the road from Mickey’s, still owned by him, of course, and had lasted about five months before I’d started getting involved with the mob boss.
What sort of job could I even hope to find? Not one that could provide for a baby and its mother, that was for sure.
I frowned. Was I seriously considering keeping Madeline and this hypothetical baby?
On the one hand, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Hadn’t I already decided that I couldn’t stay away from Madeline? Whether it was the incredibly tempting pussy between her legs or the fact that she lingered in my mind regardless of what else was happening in my life, there was no denying that I wanted her. Hungrily, I wanted her.
On the other hand, hadn’t I come to the conclusion a long time ago that having a wife and a family wasn’t an option? In my line of work that was just an impossibility. No one wanted to spend their lives with a man who killed other men to pay the bills.
I studied Madeline as she lay there on her bed. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, making her instantly look healthier. And not just healthier, sexier, too. Maybe it was the thought that she could have my baby growing inside of her, this direct link to me that could not be denied, or maybe it was just the same attraction I’d always felt for her, but I found myself thinking of the ways I wanted to have her.
We’d been pressed together in the shower before, my cock sliding between her slick thighs until I dove into her, filling that impossibly tight space with everything I had. I’d had her in my bed, tasting her and pounding into her until we were both driven to sweet pleasure and release. And I’d had her on the floor of her tiny, mostly empty apartment. But there were other places I wanted her.
In this little bed where she lay right now. I wanted to make her mine there, too, so she remembered the force with which I fucked her every time she lay down in it. And I wanted her in the kitchen—hers, mine, some random restaurant, it didn’t matter—where I’d sit her perky, full ass on the counter and maybe taste her sweet pussy lips before burying myself in her over and over again.
Other places, too. My car. Outdoors somewhere maybe, a lake or a park or up in the mountains. I wanted her on a beach, in a bathroom, bent over a porch railing in the rain wearing nothing but a white dress that quickly became soaked, see through, her breasts bouncing as her hard nipples pressed into the fabric.
I shook my head. I couldn’t keep thinking about this. My cock was straining against my pants already, begging to be let free and to dive into Madeline’s hot, tight little body. Thinking about the things I wanted from her was too much; I’d lose myself if I didn’t try to focus.
There were more important things going on. Besides, I had the feeling that she wasn’t really in the mood right then to let me fuck her senseless. I’d just have to be patient.
Adjusting my full erection to a more comfortable position, I took a seat on the bed beside Madeline. I would have to wait until she was conscious before I could get the full story on what was happening. I would make her tell me about the book, about if she were pregnant or not—if she were, it was mine; I was the only man she’d ever been with. If the answer was yes, my fate was sealed, as was hers. She would be mine, forever. There would be no going back. Whatever my lifestyle, she would have to adapt to it. I was willing to change my living arrangements—if she wanted a bigger place, a house instead of an apartment, to decorate the place herself, that was perfectly acceptable. I would honor her wishes. I would also, of course, stop bringing home other women. My sex life would dwindle to just her small, perfectly curved body, and that tight little core embedded between her long, shapely legs. I couldn’t even make myself upset at the idea of being a one-woman man.
All of that, I would change for her. But I wouldn’t change my profession. There would be no point. When the baby arrived, I could take some time off. Mickey would understand. But I wouldn’t stop being what I was; there was too much at stake. It wasn’t just about the money. People often had grudges against the hit men who retired. I wasn’t willing to take the chance that some disgruntled customer—or family member—would come knocking and find my woman and my child instead of me. I wouldn’t risk that they might be hurt for it.
So the job would stay. Madeline would just have to get used to it.
All of these thoughts filled my head as I made plans for a future. Part of me tried to calm myself, to hold things back. I couldn’t let myself get carried away if it turned out that I’d misunderstood things. If she weren’t pregnant at all, I was beginning to think I wanted to keep her anyway and try to get her pregnant.
Maybe it was a terrible idea, but I was suddenly so enamored with the thought of having an heir, a child to carry on my name, that I thought it might be worth a try. I was fairly certain it wouldn’t take much to convince Madeline—once I calmed her down about her brother and my profession.
My thoughts still racing, Madeline finally began to stir. I tensed; this was it.
She groaned, turning slightly in her bed beneath the covers, her head rolling slightly to the side. Her eyelids fluttered, her long lashes batting at her cheeks. When they finally opened, she seemed slightly disoriented, looking around as though getting her bearings. Finally, her bright blue eyes focused on me. She stilled, tensed.
Opening her mouth to say something, she shut it abruptly as though reconsidering whatever she’d been about to say. She tried to push herself into a sitting position and I helped her, settling a pillow behind her back so she would have an easier time of it. Madeline was eyeing me warily, but didn’t protest as I helped her.
When she was settled, I asked the question that was burning inside of me, “Are you pregnant?”
Her eyes went wide, then became glassy. It happened so fast that I couldn’t have seen it coming. The tears welled and her face crumbled as she released a wet sob. Something in my chest constricted, letting me know I most definitely did not like seeing her cry. It was worse because I felt as though I was the cause. Before I could do something—or even decide if I should do anything—she choked out an answer.
“Yes,” she said, her voice watery and still wracked by sobs. “I…I found out a few…d-days ago. A-and I w-was going to…to tell you.” She sobbed heavily again and I couldn’t make out what she said. It cleared up again enough that I could at least decipher her words, “…wouldn’t w-want any-anything to do w-with it.”
For a moment, I froze. I didn’t realize how much I’d been worried that she wasn’t pregnant until I felt a fire zip through me at the knowledge that for certain she was. Pride filled my chest until I thought I might burst. I had made her pregnant. She was carrying my child. I pictured her stomach swelling with a part of me. I pictured her holding a baby, smiling up at me, just as beautiful and sexy as she’d ever been, and one hundred percent mine.
There was no question about any of it now. Her words confirmed it in my mind. I would take her home. I would keep her safe and take care of her. When the baby came, I would raise it with pride and love. An heir. A concept I’d never even let myself dream about—an heir.
A slow smile slipped across my lips. She must have seen it, because her sobs slowed. Her breathing was still ragged and her face was ruddy from crying and wet from tears. Her eyes were rimmed in red, still glassy, though they were no longer pouring out tears. She blinked at me, sniffling and hiccupping slightly, uncertainty written clearly across her features. A smile was not what she’d expected, clearly, but it didn’t matter. Her expectations had been completely off the mark and I was about to set her straight.
“Good,” I told her, my voice low and husky. She was already pregnant, but I wanted to fill her up again and again with my seed. “It’s settled, then.”
She blinked at me, confused. “What’s settled?”
“You’re mine now. You’ll have to tell your fiancé immediately that you can’t marry him, because you belong to me.”
“Belong to…?” She was dazed, wide-eyed and a little lost-looking.
“You’re carrying my child and I won’t have my child raised by another man. You’re mine now, Madeline. Just mine.”
Madeline
Two months ago, all I wanted was Nikolai. He was dark and sexy and filled me with the kind of pleasure that I’d never known in my entire life. He filled up my wettest dreams at night and took up more space in my thoughts than he should have. In fact, up until my brother had shown up on my doorstep just hours ago, I would have been thrilled with the idea of Nikolai staking his claim on me. I would have reveled in the idea that I would belong to the man who was the father of my baby. I would have been filled with anticipation and want and elation at the idea that he would come here, tell me I couldn’t marry Shawn, and proceed to claim me both physically and emotionally.
How could I not want that?
But things were different now. They’d changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time that I was feeling a little woozy, breathless. Maybe it was because I’d just fainted or that I was pregnant, but I had the feeling it was because I knew things about Nikolai now.
Dangerous things.
He was a hit man for the mob. Which meant he killed people! How could I possibly be okay with belonging to a man who killed people for a living? Even so, I might have stopped and seriously thought about it. It was terrible, but there was some part of me that still desperately craved Nikolai. I told myself it was hormones. I was pregnant and he was devilishly sexy, regardless of what he did for a living. Plus, he’d been my first—and only. There was a chemical bond there, right? Something that made me attached to him, even though intellectually I understood what a terrible mistake being with him would be.
So, as I waved off my inexplicable attraction to and desire for him, I tried to come up with an explanation. An excuse. Something that would force Nikolai from me, make him think I was not the thing he wanted.
Why am I the thing he wants? I found myself wondering.
Whatever I knew about Nikolai, there was no denying that he was sexy and handsome and clearly had money. He could attract any woman he wanted. And more to the point, he wouldn’t have to settle with only a single woman. He could go out and pick up anyone, just as he had with me, at the bar. He could take them home, fuck them senseless—my body shivered at the memory of the things he’d done to be—then leave them just as he’d done that first night with me. Why settle for some farm girl who didn’t know anything about sex and her baby?
Then something else hit me. Before I could get any warm and fuzzy ideas about how it was sweet that he wanted to step up and claim the baby or how sexy it was that he wanted to spend my life with me, I realized that there was another option. A much more likely probability. What if he had no intentions of being just with me?
Sure, he was sitting there on my bed looking down at me with fiery eyes that told me he wanted to physically show me just how much he wanted me. And, yes, he was talking about how I now belonged to him, claimed me as his once and for all. But nowhere in any of that did he say that he belonged to me, too.
What if he was intending on keeping me, using me for sex—or even a brooding mare! —then when he got bored with me, going out to the bars again to pick up some other woman? What if he intended to keep fucking others even as I raised his baby, isolated and not allowed to go out in search of another man who might love me?
It was an awful thought and it filled me with both fear and disgust. But most of all, it made me ache. I wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure what it meant, but my chest hurt from the idea that maybe he would sleep with other women.
Why should I care? After all, he was a hit man and not a good match for me at all. I had already decided I didn’t want him raising my baby, so what did I care if he went out and bedded other women? I shouldn’t care at all, I thought, but even that knowledge wasn’t enough to completely dispel the tense feeling in my chest.
Pushing it aside forcefully, I focused on Nikolai. He was sitting there with his eyes now locked on where my stomach would be beneath the covers, as though he could already see his baby growing in my womb. He couldn’t; it was still too early. But he watched me anyway.
The possession was clear in his expression and I knew instantly that just telling him no wasn’t an option. I had to come up with something else, and fast. Which was why I blurted the first thing that came to my mind, though it wasn’t anywhere near the truth.
“It’s not yours,” I said stiffly. “I…you were wrong to assume. It’s not yours. I…I meant that I was going to tell you because I didn’t want you getting the wrong idea. Or getting involved with…when it wasn’t yours.”
It was a boldfaced lie, but it must have been somewhat convincing, because Nikolai jerked his eyes back up to my face. He looked…hurt. Or maybe angry. Or maybe both.
“What?” he demanded. “That’s not possible. I was your first. I was your only.” His voice had dropped to a growl that sent strange shivers through my entire body. Definitely angry, but not just angry either.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look him in the eye so it seemed like I was being completely honest as I said, “I lied.” I shrugged my shoulders, forcing myself to continue, though I found it harder to do as I moved forward with the attempt. “I…I just said it because I heard guys were turned on by virgins. I…I’m one hundred percent certain that…that…” I winced and hoped he didn’t catch it, not knowing why this last part was so hard for me to get out. Not knowing why it made my chest hurt so much, why I felt so awful for making this all up. Not sure why it hurt me to try so hard to make Nikolai not want me. “That Shawn is the father. He’s my fiancé. We’re getting married. It’s his baby. I’m positive.”
There was a long moment where Nikolai simply sat there. He stared at me, seemingly frozen in time or lost in some thoughts that were far, far away from me. For a second, I thought I’d actually broken him somehow. He looked so vulnerable. It was almost enough to make me feel awful about what I’d told him, and for a wild moment, I almost went back and said it was all a lie. But then the anger came.
He jerked up to a standing position, his face growing red with anger. His eyes flashed at me and I felt a twinge of guilt race through me. I loved those eyes, the way they always looked at me with hunger.
Except not now. Now, they were just angry.
I’m sorry, I found myself thinking. But I didn’t say it aloud. I couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much my heart ached to have Nikolai with me. It didn’t matter that I wanted him in ways that I’d never wanted any other man. It didn’t matter that he filled me with warmth and need and something else that I couldn’t explain but was breaking right in that moment. It didn’t matter, because I simply couldn’t let him raise my baby. I couldn’t.
“Positive,” he repeated.
I answered, though it wasn’t really a question and I didn’t really want to say it. “Yes, positive.” It hurt me to get the words out, but I managed.
He began to pace angrily along the length of my floor. Which really wasn’t much. In one stride, he was across it and had to turn around to take another stride and repeat the process. There just wasn’t enough space in my bedroom area for proper pacing, but he was trying. Probably because the tension that lined his shoulders looked vicious and I was pretty sure anger consumed him.
But he wasn’t leaving. I had the sinking suspicion that there was some small part of him that was thinking things through, that he was trying to come to some sort of conclusion. Maybe trying to make himself be okay with me having lied or me having slept with Shawn or even the baby not being his. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like he was still trying to make himself all right with me belonging to him when I so clearly had been with someone else.
How odd, I thought.
Why would he care? Really, a baby was a burden, wasn’t it? Most guys didn’t even want one. And though Shawn had stepped up to the plate, it seemed to me it had more to do with some lingering puppy love for me rather than any want for a child.
The thought made me a little annoyed. Did I really want Shawn, who didn’t seem to actually want my baby, marrying me and raising it?
Pushing that thought aside, I reminded myself that it was the best of a bunch of really bad options. No, I wasn’t in love with Shawn. No, the baby wasn’t his. No, I didn’t want to be married to him for the rest of my life, but it was time to make some adult decisions. Shawn would be a good father and husband, even if the love he felt for me would have to be forever unrequited. I would do my best to try to be a good little wife, to even love him if I could. The thought caused the aching in my chest to worsen, but I somehow knew it would never be what I wanted.
Unfortunately, it was my only option left. I couldn’t let Nikolai be the father of my child, no matter how much he seemed to want to. His life was filled with murder and danger and the little fact that he was after my brother.
How could I let the man who wanted to murder my brother be the father of my child?
There was a simple answer: I couldn’t.
So, I pushed forward, even though it was like ripping out my own heart. “Nikolai, I’m marrying Shawn.” I said it with as much firmness as I could. Enough power in those words to make them believable even to my own ears, which were still trying to translate the words into something else that sounded a lot more like Nikolai. It was enough to make Nikolai turn and stare at me. The anger hadn’t disappeared, nor had the tension, but there was something else lacing it, too. Something that I couldn’t place, or maybe just didn’t want to. Finally, I had to look away to say the very last part, possibly the most important part. “I’m marrying Shawn and I never want to see you again. Not ever.”
Rage bloomed anew on Nikolai’s face. He was livid, anger and anguish marring his beautiful features until I felt as though I’d wrecked something precious. His eyes flashed with unspoken words. Things that were probably terrible, meant to be like cutting, slicing knives to dive into my heart and my flesh. He probably wanted me to hurt like I seemed to be making him hurt, but there was nothing to be done about it. His mouth remained shut and with one last scathing look, he turned away from me.
I felt that ache in my heart intensify. Suddenly, I felt like I was struggling to breathe. I didn’t know why it was so hard to watch him walk away, but it was causing me what felt like real, physical pain.
I wanted him to stay. Despite how bad I knew he was for me and my baby, I felt inexplicably drawn to him. I wanted him to be here with me.
But he couldn’t be in my life. I had to think about not only what was best for me, but for my baby, too. Not to mention my brother.
Nikolai paused at the door. He turned and looked straight at me, that last look so searing that I could almost feel it like a punch in the gut. Finally, he turned away and stomped out the door, slamming it closed behind him.
I waited several beats in the silence that followed before it consumed me.
He’s gone. He’s gone, and with what I’ve said, he’s never coming back.
The knowledge of that fact wracked my body. Sobs came up unbidden. Curling myself up in a ball on my bed, I cried until I had no tears left. When I was finally exhausted, I fell asleep.